


Games and Cake

by completelysirius



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cake, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, My First Work in This Fandom, Mycroft Loves Sweets, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-14
Updated: 2013-12-14
Packaged: 2018-01-04 15:31:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1082698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/completelysirius/pseuds/completelysirius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft has had a difficult day at work. Anthea tries to make his day better and acts on something that Mycroft has ignored. A short attempt at Mycroft/Anthea fluff.One-shot written for a 30 day countdown to Sherlock series 3 prompt of favorite minor characters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Games and Cake

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys like this, it's my first Mycroft/Anthea fic, and I just have a lot of feelings about these two. Let me know if you like it, constructive criticism is always appreciated!

Mycroft often compared his work with the British government to the board game Risk. After all, what could be more game-like than twisting the beliefs of war lords and presidents to match the agenda of Queen and Country? Yes, Mycroft fancied himself a player in a very real game of Risk, a player who formed alliances, analyzed strategies and weighed the value of territories and the people within them. The other players focused on the ultimate goal of world domination with a sickening greed, and Mycroft had seen many men and women rise to power and fall after making elementary mistakes. Mycroft was used to manipulating these weak-minded fools; he knew their thoughts, motivations, and world-views within minutes of meeting them. He had even taken up to making bets with Anthea as to how long their leaderships would last. Just three weeks ago a UN ambassador had fallen into disgrace; Anthea still owed him seven triple-layer chocolate cakes from Mycroft’s favorite bakery.

But some days were worse than others. Today had been particularly trying; hundreds of hours of planning and negotiations for a human trafficking coup in central Asia were made worthless by a smug American official from the Bureau of International Labor Affairs. Today ten hours worth of heated conferences and pretentious speeches were not enough to fix the blunder.

“That sounded brutal,” Anthea remarked, leaning against the sleek, black sedan, her fingers flying over the keys of her Blackberry.

“How much did you hear?” Mycroft asked as he approached the car.

“I heard enough to know he’s an arrogant twat.”

“You should not have heard any of it,” Mycroft replied in a gruff voice.

Anthea opened the back passenger’s door and slipped in with a sly smile “As if you’d expect anything else of me.”

Mycroft’s face softened as he slipped into the car after her. “Well then, what did you surmise from your eavesdropping?” 

“That American politicians are the most common cause of headaches, closely followed by head colds and undisciplined children.”

Mycroft chuckled. “Fetch me a bottle of ibuprofen for tomorrow, will you? I’m going to need it if we spend another ten hours failing to amend his indiscretions.”

“Of course. I’ll have Ivan drive me to Tesco after we drop you off,” she said, smiling warmly at her phone. Mycroft wondered for precisely the two-hundred-and-seventeenth time if she would ever smile at him like that. 

Upon entering his townhouse and locking the door behind him, Mycroft let out the sigh he’d been containing all day. He dropped his umbrella in its stand and hung his coat in the hall closet before traipsing to the kitchen to put the kettle on.

 

There were few things better, Mycroft thought, than exchanging leather loafers and a three-piece suit for silk pajamas with slip-ons and a cotton dressing gown. He was padding down the stairs with a novel under his arm and his phone in his breast pocket, eager for a soothing cup of Earl Grey, when he heard the soft, closing click of his front door. He walked down the remainder of the staircase and stopped at the bottommost stair. Mycroft scanned the entryway, noting the size and shapes of the footprint patterns left in the lush carpet.

“Back so soon? Tesco’s must have been empty.” Mycroft called as he dropped his book on the hall table and made his way into the kitchen. Anthea stood in front of the kettle, her back to him as she poured the tea into two porcelain cups. A white box sat beside her on the counter.

“You didn’t.” Mycroft said softly, his mouth watering in anticipation of what was in the box. “You couldn’t have had time. You were barely fifteen minutes. Tesco’s would take you a minimum of ten minutes, counting travel time. To get to the bakery and back here would take at least another fifteen minutes.”

“Yes,” Anthea said. Although her back was turned, Mycroft could hear the smirk in her voice. “But you should know by now that I rarely play by the rules. That’s why you hired me, isn’t it?” She turned, holding a lacquered wooden tray. Two small plates of neatly sliced pieces of triple-layer chocolate cake sat next to the two cups of Earl Grey. Mycroft stepped to the side as Anthea swept past him and into the study. She turned when she realized that he had not followed. “Well come on, then. Cake number four is waiting.”

Mycroft walked into the study as Anthea placed the tray onto a coffee table and sat on his most comfortable couch. She smiled at him and patted the cushion beside her expectantly. 

Mycroft sat down and watched with wide eyes as Anthea leaned in toward him. She was so close he could smell her vanilla-scented perfume. She looked into his eyes for the briefest of moments before closing the gap between them and touching her lips to his in a chaste kiss. Mycroft fought as hard as he could to keep his face calm and composed while internally his blood raced at about 500 kilometers an hour; he was sure he could feel the firing of every neuron in his body.

“What did I do to deserve such an honor?” Mycroft asked when he remembered his voice, speaking as politely as possible. 

“Nothing out of the ordinary.” Anthea replied without so much as a blush. She handed him a cup of tea and pushed a plate of cake to his side of the coffee table. Mycroft took it gratefully and sipped the sweet, steaming beverage. He watched as Anthea toed off her black heels and settled into the couch with her tea in one hand and the television remote in the other. She flicked the power button and switched the channels until she found an episode of The Thick of It.

“I must have done something to deserve that…particular display of affection.” Mycroft insisted. He placed his tea on the table and picked up his perfect slice of cake. Mycroft’s mouth watered almost painfully as he tasted the first delicious bite.

“I mean it when I say that you did nothing, Mycroft. You did nothing, though we both know our relationship has been building up to this for quite a while.” Anthea gazed at him openly and sipped her tea. “You did nothing, so I decided to do something about it.” 

Mycroft stared back at her. There was something different about Anthea, something he only began to notice when he found her in his kitchen making tea. Mycroft raised his eyebrows as it hit him: her Blackberry was gone.

The phone in Mycroft’s pocket chose that inopportune moment to ring shrilly. Mycroft shot Anthea an apologetic glace before taking the phone from his pocket and looking at the caller ID. He only had time to read the name of his driver when Anthea snatched the phone from his loose grip, turned it off, and tossed it onto a nearby chair.

She smiled at his startled expression. “I see you’ve noticed that my Blackberry is not on my person. And that would be Ivan, calling to tell you that I’ve left it in the back of the car. It seems I’ve left the keys to my flat there, too.”

Mycroft smirked and shifted closer to her. “Is that so?”

“Mhmm.” She nodded, biting her bottom lip in a cheeky grin.

“Well,” Mycroft said softly, putting his arm around her shoulders and gently pulling her close. He pressed his lips to hers and felt her hand rest against his chest. He broke their kiss but stayed so close that their lips brushed as he said, “I think I can find you a place to stay.”

~Fin~


End file.
